


Demons and Desires

by Hot_elf



Series: Dragon Age - series 3 (Morena Amell / Cassandra Hawke) [5]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-26
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-17 01:49:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/546309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hot_elf/pseuds/Hot_elf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newly conscripted into the Grey Wardens, Loghain doesn't expect much from life any more. But he finds himself drawn to Morena Amell and her vibrant zest for life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Burning Desire

**Burning Desire**

Loghain couldn't sleep. The nightmares kept coming; the voices in his head wouldn't let him rest. He didn't need the other Wardens to tell him the Archdemon was near. The huge, blighted dragon was calling to him in his sleep, every night. His room felt stuffy and the walls seemed too close. With a curse, he got up and threw on some clothes. He knew the old palace like his own home and didn't need a light to find his way around the maze of corridors.

Aimlessly he walked, his head whirling with questions. Three nights now since his Joining. Two nights since he had lain with the witch, taken part in the ritual that was supposed to save his life, Riordan's life, Morena's life. But would it? Or had he sacrificed his honour for nothing? Would the three of them be enough to vanquish the Archdemon? Would the fate of Ferelden once more rest in his hands?

When Morena Amell had shown up at the Landsmeet, accompanied by Maric's bastard and a ragtag band of misfits, his first impulse had been to dismiss the threat with a mocking laugh. But then her eyes met his, and what he read there made him pause. She was no provincial beauty, out to ruin the country with her ambition - though the ambition was there, plain to see. And she was beautiful, almost incredibly so. A perfect body, slim, yet curvy, smooth dark skin, long raven-black hair. And those eyes! Black and sparkling with passion, they had enchanted him, even then.

When she spoke, her voice was surprisingly deep, and it carried to every corner of the throne room. And she was well prepared. When it became clear that she had outmanoeuvred him, he asked for a duel. She smiled then, and her eyes wandered over his powerful body, assessing him, looking for weaknesses. He was glad he had kept in shape.

At a nod from her, the Antivan assassin came forward to fight him, even though Alistair was chafing at being denied his revenge. It was a good choice. He could have easily taken down Alistair, but Zevran was too fast, too agile for him in the end. He had already resigned himself to dying, when she had invoked the Right of Conscription, thereby creating an uproar. He could still see the expression on Alistair's face, still hear the hurt and betrayal in the young man's voice. But she had remained firm, her face full of a cool disdain that must have hurt more than any amount of fury could have.

Morena. He realized that his feet had carried him to her room. He could see a thin band of light around the doorframe, indicating that she was awake. Loghain was still trying to make up his mind on whether to knock, when the door opened.

He had been meaning to ask her about the ritual, but when he saw her, he completely forgot about it. She was wearing nothing but an old, oversized man's shirt that came down midway to her thighs, and her hair was flowing in loose curls around her face. She looked very young, and the white shirt gave her an air of innocence that touched him even though he knew it to be false.

"Loghain." To his surprise, she seemed pleased to see him. "Couldn't sleep?"

When he nodded, she stepped aside and motioned for him to come in. "Me neither. It's very close now."

She walked across the room from him and picked up a wine goblet. "Have some wine. Maybe it will help you sleep."

She took a deep sip herself before handing him the goblet. He took it with a grateful sigh and sank onto a chair. "Will it always be like this?" The question escaped his lips before he could stop himself.

Morena walked over to him and let her finger travel lightly along his jaw, scrutinizing his exhausted face. "No. It's worse during a Blight, they told me. And now, with the Archdemon only a day's march away..." She bit her lip briefly, then she seemed to make up her mind. "But if we want to defeat it, we need to rest, you and me both."

He gasped when she straddled him, arranging her smooth brown legs to either side of him, and bent down to kiss him. Full, red lips, tasting faintly of wine, found his. Loghain swallowed hard. Before he knew it, he was kissing her back, tasting her hungrily.

She smiled and let her hands trail down his body, obviously pleased with his reaction. "I see you are already familiar with another... side effect of being a Warden."

"Maker, yes." His hands tightened around her small waist.

He had been horny as a schoolboy for the last three days. But she seemed just as eager as he was, her lips seeking his again, her small hands tugging impatiently at his shirt. Of course. Alistair had left in a huff, so her bed had been as cold as his own for the past few nights. Loghain realized with startled disgust that the shirt she was wearing must be the bastard's. With a low growl, he grabbed the offending fabric and almost tore it off her body. Morena laughed and threw it into a far corner, leaning back to let him look her over.

For a moment he just stared at her, struck by the perfection of her body. Her breasts were firm, high and round, with dark brown nipples that seemed to be straining for his touch. Carefully, almost reverently, he cupped one of them in his hand, then bent down to let his tongue circle the other one, once, twice, until Morena cried out and arched into him.

"Loghain." Pushing aside his shirt, she let her hands wander down the smooth expanse of his hard chest. He was all cord and muscle, his body that of a much younger man thanks to a lifetime spent riding and fighting. When she reached the laces of his pants, she slid down between his legs, kneeling in front of his chair, and began to untie them.

"Morena, don't-" He tried to hold her back, when she bowed down to let her tongue trail up his shaft, but she just smiled.

"Trust me, Loghain, I know what I'm doing." And she took him in deep, without warning or preparation. Suddenly he could feel nothing but the sweet wet heat of her mouth, the gentle suction of her lips, and he lost control immediately. Wrapping several strands of her long hair around his hand, he held on to her desperately while his hips thrust upwards. A string of curses escaped his lips as he came hard, spilling his seed into her willing mouth, feeling her swallow up all of it with an eagerness that made him shudder.

She heard his frustrated sigh and got up, a wanton smile on her lips. "Come on. This isn't over." She walked backwards to the bed, never taking her eyes off him, her hands playing suggestively with her nipples. "Come."

He didn't need to be asked again. With a rough groan, he shoved her down into the cushions and spread her legs wide. He wanted her open, vulnerable, completely at his mercy. She complied willingly, moaning in ecstasy when his tongue separated her folds, lapping at her, searching for the perfect spot. He knew he'd found it when her fingers tightened on his shoulders and her whole body went taut under him. But he gave her no quarter, continuing mercilessly until she pushed his head away, trying to shove him on his back.

He shook his head and easily held her down. She was so tiny, yet he didn't fool himself for a moment. He had seen her cast spells on the battlefield, and he knew the power that sizzled right under her silky skin. If she really wanted to take control from him, she would. But she seemed to enjoy his firm grasp, the sureness with which he parted her legs to probe her with first one finger, then two. She was more than ready, and so was he, he realized, almost painfully hard once more. Her hips pushed up eagerly against him, but he shook his head again and flipped her over, positioning her on her knees and moving up behind her.

"Yes, now..." she panted, her body vibrating with need, but he held back, teasing her with his hardness until she was mewling helplessly.  "Damn it, Loghain, what do you want from me?"

He could hear the frustration and fury in her voice and knew she would make him pay for this later, but for the moment, he felt heady with triumph. "Ask nicely," he growled against her ear.

"I... all right, Loghain, please." She was shaking now, grinding herself back into him, and he knew he wouldn't be able to wait much longer.

"Please what?" He pushed inside her just a little, withdrawing immediately, and making her howl in frustration.

"You insufferable bastard, take me! Oh Maker, please, I-" She sounded frayed now, and he finally gave in, burying himself inside her in a single long thrust.

She whimpered at the feel of him inside her, and the tiny noise sounded sweet to his ears. But the time for games was over now. Grabbing her hips hard, he set a furious pace, pounding into her hot sheath without restraint, taking her with such force that she had to hold on to the bed's headboard for support. Yet she didn't complain, didn't flinch, but relished every second, her upturned face almost feverish with arousal.

He reached around to touch her and she responded eagerly, pushing herself into his hand, rubbing against his fingers. And then he felt her tighten around him, her whole body convulsing in his grip and her mouth opened in a soundless scream that was so beautiful in his complete and utter abandonment that he groaned at the sight of it. He held on to her suddenly boneless body for two or three more thrusts, then he felt his own climax coming, coiling up at the base of his spine and rushing up towards his head, obliterating all conscious thought in a white-hot inferno of pleasure.

The last thing he remembered was tumbling down next to her on the bed, her hand dragging the blanket up to cover him. Then he was blissfully, happily asleep, deep and dreamless, the nightmares forgotten.

When he woke up in the morning, she was up and dressed already. He yawned and stretched, feeling rested and ready to take on the world, for the first time in days.

"Thank you, Morena." He tried to read her face, to find out what this had been to her. It had been so long since he had been with a woman who meant anything more than just a brief diversion.

But her eyes shut him out as effectively as ever. "Thank you, Loghain. Meet me in the throne room in an hour."

He nodded and got up. There would be time to sort this out. Later. Now they had an Archdemon to kill.

 


	2. No Need to Ask

**Chapter 2 - No Need to Ask**

Morena was walking up the stairs to the watchers' gallery at the palace's archery range. Leliana had invited her to come watch her practise, knowing she enjoyed the show.

She almost smiled at the frivolity of it. Three days ago they had taken down the Archdemon. Her spells had weakened the huge dragon to the point where it was cornered, snapping at them in desperation. And then Loghain attacked, strong and magnificent in his silverite armour, and buried his sword deep inside the monster's vulnerable neck. She held her breath, half expecting him to drop dead on the spot, but Morrigan's ritual worked. The demon was dead, vanquished. The Blight was over.

Of course they had all been battered and bruised, and Wynne had had her hands full with healing. They had buried Riordan and mourned the deaths of many others. But now, just a few days after the momentous event, life at the Royal Palace was already taking on a semblance of normality. The servants were busy cleaning up, and everyone else was trying to establish some sort of daily routine.

Morena had always admired archers in particular. Now she watched in avid fascination as Leliana sent arrow after arrow into the targets with a precision and focus that seemed curiously at odds with her usual demeanour. At the end of the practice session, the hearts of the targets were neatly pierced with arrows, and a smile of satisfaction spread across the bard's face. Not for the first time Morena wondered what would become of Leliana, now that the Blight was over. The two of them had reached an uneasy truce during the past two years despite Leliana's faith in the Chantry's teachings.

She was about to follow her companion out, when the door opened again and another archer walked in. Instinctively she stepped back into the shadows when she recognized him. _Loghain_. He had foregone his heavy chevalier armour in favour of well-worn leathers that suited him far better. This was the true Loghain, she realized. Not the regent, the politician, the highly decorated general. _At heart he's a hunter._ The armour was so weathered by age as to be almost black, but she could tell from the way he was moving that it was a fine piece of work, supple and flexible.

Without noticing her, he took out his bow. It was not at all like Leliana's sleek weapon. This was a powerful bow, almost as tall as he was, dark and menacing. His hands ran lovingly over the shining heartwood. Remembering how those hands had felt on her body, Morena shuddered with a sudden desire.

He carefully selected some arrows from his quiver and straightened, correcting his stance before he pulled the string. His face was utterly concentrated, but at the same time he seemed relaxed, almost happy. After a few warm-up shots, he went through what was no doubt a familiar routine, alternating between precise, careful target practice and quick successions of rapid fire that left the dummy covered in arrows.

When he nocked three arrows at the same time and aimed at the furthest target, Morena couldn't help herself any more. With a small sigh, she stepped forward to see better, her hands clenched around the banister. Loghain's head flew up. In one smooth motion, he spun around, aiming his bow right at her heart. Her pulse raced. There was a darkness in his eyes that went straight to her core. She returned his gaze, her head held up proudly, and a small smile appeared around his lips. Slowly, very slowly, he lowered his bow and nodded at her in greeting. Then he quickly gathered his belongings and was gone before she knew it.

* * *

When Loghain knocked at her door that night, she was sitting at her desk, writing a letter to Rica.

"Come in." She didn't get up to greet him, and he walked up behind her, leaning over her shoulder to reach out for the platter of cheese next to her on the table. Maker, but he was _big_. Looming over her like this, his hands resting on the desk on both sides of her, he completely framed her slim body with his broad shoulders. _Archer's shoulders._ Morena shivered. He took a piece of cheese and chewed it with relish, but when he reached out for another one, she tapped his fingers lightly with her hand. He easily caught her wrist and raised a questioning eyebrow at her.

"You didn't ask." Her tone was admonishing, but she couldn't keep the hitch out of her voice.

He laughed, a deep rumble that made his chest vibrate. Then he straightened, gathered her up smoothly in his arms, and carried her over to the bed without apparent effort.

"I'm not in the habit of asking if I want something," he growled, letting her sink down onto the sheets.

Quickly he untied her robe, pushing it aside to give him access to her body. He was still wearing the leather armour and she tore impatiently at the fastenings, trying to get them undone. The scent of the leather was driving her wild. He smiled and helped her open the last buckles so he could slide out of the chest piece. The rest of his clothes came off at surprising speed, and then his hands were back on her body, trailing up her thighs, while he was kissing her deeply.

She moaned, pushing herself into his hand and he chuckled. "So impatient." His hand reached her heat and he carefully probed inside her. "So wet." His eyes darkened as he pushed deeper, spreading her, opening her up. "So ready for the taking."

Morena almost cried out. She pushed against his shoulders, and this time he didn't resist, but let her straddle him. She sank down on his hard shaft, all the way down, until he filled her completely and she had to stop for a moment, unable to go on. His hands were on her breasts in a gentle caress and his eyes were fixed on her face, drinking in her arousal.

Taking a deep breath, she rolled her hips in a controlled sinuous movement. She was rewarded with a hiss as his body tensed under her, shudders running all over his powerful frame. His hands moved to her hips, tightening, gripping her so hard that she was sure he would leave bruises.

"Morena." He pushed himself up into a sitting position, and she half expected him to roll over with her so that he could be on top. But instead he carefully lowered her between his legs so that they were sitting facing each other. He kissed her deeply, his hips rocking back and forth just a tiny bit. Pressing her forehead to his, she looked down on their joined bodies. She could see the muscles rippling in his stomach as he moved, sliding in and out of her, slowly, over and over, until her whole body was trembling with lust.

His thrusts became harder and more determined, and she clung to him, grateful for the firm circle of his arms that held her in place. When she finally screamed her release, her legs wrapped tight around his waist, her sweat-soaked hair sticking to her back, he closed his eyes and let his need take over, spending himself inside her with just a few quick thrusts.

She watched him as he got up and dressed, feeling too pleasantly sated to move yet. Being with Loghain excited her far more than she would have thought possible. He seemed to know exactly what she needed, without being told, without any effort on her part. _Next time..._ She imagined him taking her against the wall of the archery range, rough, forceful, and she nearly moaned out loud at the thought.

"Loghain?" He turned to look at her, his face expectant. "Don't ever ask." Her voice was shaky. "Never."

He looked startled for a moment, but then he nodded briefly. "I won't." He left without another word.

 

 


	3. Warming Up

**Chapter 3 - Warming Up**

The narrow ledge near the summit of Dragon's Peak was as far up as the horses would take them. Morena was relieved when Loghain judged the weather too inhospitable for climbing up further on foot. More than once on the way up she had secretly berated herself for agreeing to this excursion with him.

But he had been so eager, his eyes gleaming with a barely contained fervour when he'd suggested the ride. "There is something you should see for yourself, Morena. Come on. The exercise will do us good."

Morena stared enviously at Loghain's warm wolf skin coat. _Andraste's grace! Why do we have to do this on such a cold day?_

She tried to keep her voice calm and collected, even though she was shivering in the icy wind. "What did you want to show me?"

He indicated the land spread out to the west below them with a grand gesture. "This. Ferelden." He gripped her shoulders, turning her around until she faced away from him and could see what he described. "Look. You can see almost all the way across the Bannorn. I was born there, a simple farmer's son. If you follow the Imperial Highway, all along the River Drakon, it will take you to Lothering, or what's left of it, and then on to Redcliffe, or south to Ostagar and the Wilds. And there, do you see the dark green line to the south? That's the outskirts of the Brecilian Forest. Right behind it, that's where Gwaren lies. My Teyrnir." The note of pride in his voice was unmistakable, but then a shadow fell over his features. "Well, Anora's now, I guess."

She raised an eyebrow. "So you've dragged me all the way up here in this weather to have me look at Ferelden? I've travelled all over the country for the past two years, remember?"

" _This_ is what we saved, Morena, when we took down the Archdemon." His voice had become low and intense. "This is what I've fought for all my life. Ferelden. The only thing that counts."

"I see." Morena nodded, touched against her will by his passion. "Though I'm not sure I will ever understand how much it means to you. I wasn't even born here, you know. My family... they still live in Kirkwall. They're rich and famous, part of the nobility. My great-uncle Aristide Amell even ran for Viscount at some point."

Loghain's grip on her arms tightened. "But Kirkwall isn't your home."

"No, it's not. Aristide made sure of that." She shook her head and closed her eyes as she remembered.

_One of her earliest memories was one of her great-uncle's furious outbursts against her mother. Uncle Aristide was a powerful, tall man, and when he shouted, he seemed like an angry giant to the small five-year-old child she had been. She didn't understand the words he hurled at her mother, "whore, slattern, adulteress", but there was no mistaking the utter contempt in his eyes when he looked at her, when he muttered disparaging remarks about her dark skin and her curly hair. But Mommy protected her, as always, put her arms around her tiny body, provided a safe haven, a warm and secure nest._

"I take it Lord Amell didn't become Viscount after all." Loghain's dry remark brought her back to the present.

"No. Too many scandals." Morena laughed, without a single trace of joy. "First his daughter Leandra ran off with a mage, spurning the grand marriage he'd arranged for her. And then I was born, the embarrassing bastard child. Which still might not have been so bad, if it hadn't turned out I had magic."

She shivered, recalling the scene that had played out after she had cast her first spell. Not even her mother had been able to protect her any more.

_"I don't care how much you love the brat, Revka!" her great-uncle roared. "I won't have a mageling under my roof. You have tainted our family's reputation more than enough already." Her mother begged and cried and prostrated herself at his feet, but to no avail. Within the week, Morena's bags were packed, and she was sent away. Not just to the Gallows, to the_ _Kirkwall Circle_ _. She was carted away to the_ _Fereldan_ _Tower_ _, never to see her mother again. Out of sight, out of mind. She was ten._

"What about your parents?" Loghain's tone was carefully neutral.

"My father left before I was born." Morena bit her lip. "And my mother died a few months after I was taken away."

A dry letter had arrived at the Tower, informing her of her mother's passing. Only much later had she learned that Revka had taken her own life. She had hanged herself in her room, unable to bear the loss of her child. Morena was grateful when Loghain refrained from the usual empty phrases and condolences. Instead, he pulled her a tiny bit closer, almost but not quite embracing her.

"Fate is a curious thing." He sounded pensive, and when she looked up at him questioningly, he elaborated. "Here you are, a bastard, a mage, brought to our country against your will, and yet you've done what all the Fereldan nobles couldn't."

Her lips curved up in an ironic smile. "Nobility is overrated, Loghain. You of all people should know that."

He threw his head back and laughed. "True. Come on." He pulled her back from the ledge and eyed her blue lips critically. "It's getting late and you're frozen through. I don't think you're up for the ride back. Let's find an inn and get you warm."

 

 

* * *

Loghain was as good as his word. He took her to a clean, decent coaching inn on the lower reaches of the mountain and rented a room for the night. Once he had her settled close to the fireplace, wrapped up in a woollen blanket, he disappeared to look for food.

Morena settled back with a sigh, trying to rub some feeling back into her stiff fingers. She hadn't expected to have to deal with her old memories today. Usually she kept them well under wraps. It wasn't pleasant to remember the frightened child she had been when she had first arrived in Ferelden.

_So cold. No one had told her it would be so much colder than home. The long journey by wagon to the Tower was a nightmare. Freezing at night, shaken and jolted during the day, the driver and the Templars taking turns yelling at her in their rough Southern accents. Everything was brown and muddy, the smell of dog everywhere. And then they arrived at_ _Lake_ _Calenhad_ _and she had one last glimpse of the countryside before the huge doors of the Tower closed behind her._

A single tear trickled down her cheek when she recalled the day of her arrival at the Circle. She had been so alone. _All alone except for-_ But no, she couldn't go there. Not even for a moment. Once she began to think of _him_ , the pain would become overwhelming, and she couldn't afford that. Not now. Not ever.

Fortunately the door opened right then, and Loghain was back, a large bowl of broth in his hands, which he passed to her with a worried look. When she had finished it, he took it from her hands and frowned when he found she was still shivering.

"Come here." His voice was stern and authoritative as he led her over to the bed and undressed both of them quickly, pulling her under the thick woollen cover with him. He cursed under his breath when he felt her icy-cold feet, but his body heat soon achieved what the fire hadn't managed to and a drowsy warmth spread all through her. She had almost dozed off when he shifted slightly, and she became aware of his growing arousal. Softly she slid one hand down between their bodies and took hold of his hardening length, stroking all the way up along the shaft, drawing a hiss from him.

"Sleep, Morena." He sounded gruff. "You need to rest. This is not the time-"

She cut him off with a kiss. "I'm warm again, Loghain. In fact..." She gripped him harder and he groaned, unconsciously pushing himself further into her hand. "I'm beginning to feel rather hot."

Her lips trailed over his chest, her tongue flicking briefly against one nipple, while her hand continued its insistent stroking, up and down, squeezing him gently, until he grabbed her wrist.

"Stop it!" He pulled her up to kiss her. His lips were hard and demanding on hers, while his hands quickly took possession of her body. She moaned happily as the last of the residual cold was driven away by the heat his touch enkindled in her skin. One of his hands was trailing down her spine, just firmly enough to make her arch into him, while the other played with her breasts.

Morena reached up to loosen the tie holding back his hair, still thick and black, and watched it fall around his face, making him look younger and less grim. "Loghain. Make me burn." _Burn away the memories._

He snarled at her words, but she felt him tense as he rose to the challenge. His hand danced over her stomach, teasing her by stopping several times just short of the dark triangle of hair between her legs, until he finally buried his fingers in her curls, tugging gently. He laughed at her helpless moans, but he didn't stop, never ceased his caresses, determined to make her surrender completely.

By the time he entered her, the fire inside her was burning so hot she couldn't imagine ever feeling cold again. It felt so incredibly good to have him there, his hard, lean flanks gliding along the soft skin of her inner thighs, his warmth filling and surrounding her, his strong wide shoulders to hold on to. With a long happy sigh, she relaxed and let him set the pace, matching her rhythm to his. It was a long, slow build-up, gentle and almost sweet, culminating in a moment of shared pleasure that left them both content and sated, drifting off to sleep soon afterwards. 

* * *

When they came back to Denerim around noon the next day, they had to hurry to get ready in time for the next council meeting. News had come from the North of increased darkspawn activity in the Coastlands. Soon they were both caught up in strategic planning and the discussion of army logistics. There was no more time to talk about the past, to dwell on old memories. Yet now and then they'd share a glance and a smile, quickly tempered by a caustic remark or a dry laugh. They understood each other.

* * *

_I had a little help from the DA prompt generator here: "Loghain/F!Amell, standing on a high ledge looking down"._


	4. Demons from the Past

**Chapter 4 - Demons from the Past**

The letter from Weisshaupt arrived just after lunch. Loghain's face contorted in fury while he scanned the page. Without looking at any of them, he got up and left, his face dark and forbidding.

Morena found him in the palace gardens, close to Maric's statue. He was sitting on a stone bench, staring off into space. She sat down next to him and waited.

"They're sending me to Orlais." He laughed, a short bitter laugh. "Of all places. They want me in Montsimmard, they wrote. As if there weren't enough Wardens left there."

Morena shrugged. "I fail to see the problem, Loghain. You are an experienced politician. You can deal with them."

"Orlais." He almost spat out the word. "At least it's only for two years."

"Why do you hate the Orlesians so much?" She tried to look into his face, to see what had him so worked up. It wasn't like Loghain to be so emotional.

But he evaded her gaze. "I should think that was obvious. But then, you weren't even born when we drove them out. People have short memories indeed. By rights, no Fereldan should ever set foot into that cursed country."

Morena frowned. She was sure there was more to it than that. A hatred like Loghain's had to be personal. She would make it her job to find out.

"Come on, Loghain." She moved behind him and began to massage his tense shoulders, her touch sensual and insistent through his thin linen shirt. "This isn't worth tearing yourself up over. I have a far better idea on how to spend the afternoon."

"Do you, now?" His voice was gruff, but she knew she had him, when he gripped her wrist and pulled her close, twisting around so he could kiss her. "Then what are we waiting for?"

She let him take her out there, in the gardens, hidden from view behind an ornamental tree. The ground felt hard and gravelly beneath her as he thrust inside her with a barely contained rage that excited her more than any amount of tenderness would have.

* * *

It was Bann Teagan who finally told her, after much careful inquiring and searching. He had heard it from old Mother Ailis who had known Loghain and his father back in the days of the Orlesian occupation. Morena tried to imagine Loghain as a boy of sixteen, watching a group of Orlesian soldiers rape his mother to death. She swallowed. No wonder he couldn't let go.

* * *

A week later Morena prepared to leave for Vigil's Keep. Loghain was going to stay a few weeks longer, and set out on his journey as soon as Anora felt she could do without him. The night before her departure, he came to see her in her room. His rage seemed to have evaporated by then, and he was his old, caustic self. They shared a glass of wine near the fireplace in her room and talked about inconsequential things. When he got up to leave, she put a hand on his sleeve.

"Loghain." He froze, fixing her with that piercing glare of his, but she went on. "I... spoke to Teagan. About your family."

His face hardened. "Old stories, Morena. I guess it's time to forgive and forget."

She shook her head. "Some things aren't meant to be forgotten."

There must have been something in her voice because he paused to look into her eyes, a long and searching gaze, before he pulled her in his arms. "Come here."

She hid her face against his chest for a moment before she looked up and kissed him almost violently. Her arms went around his neck, clinging to him while her body pressed against his in mute despair.

He groaned, pulling her even closer, his eyes shut and his lips hard against hers. The sudden rush of desire came as a surprise, now just as much as on their first night together. Her scent, the feel of her skin, the small mewling noises she made at his touch, all combined to make him lose control, in a way he never had with any other woman. There was an incredible intensity in her, a fierce fury that matched his own, an unbreakable will to turn the pain into triumph.

"I'll miss you," he heard himself mutter between those heated kisses. "Maker, Morena, I'll miss you."

He was eternally grateful that she pretended not to hear him, instead dragging him over to the bed, tugging impatiently at his clothes. "I want you, Loghain." Her voice was just as feverish as her hot lips. "One more time. Before I leave."

There were no words after that, just touches, kisses, greedy bites. His rough palms on the silken skin of her stomach, her legs wrapped around his waist, his hands entangled in her hair. No whispered endearments, no stammered confidences, just raw, unbridled _want_. They didn't bother with subtle caresses, not when every touch was so loaded, so charged with desire that it left them breathless.

Passion of this kind wasn't what Loghain had expected to experience at this point in his life. Being with Morena was the most liberating, the most invigorating thing that had happened to him in years. Something in her spoke directly to his darkest urges. He had few illusions about her, didn't allow himself for a moment to forget her ambition and her hunger for power. But neither did she. She wasn't afraid of the darkness in him. She didn't shy away from what she saw in his eyes when the masks were down.

Loghain didn't hold back as he moved above her, her slim body writhing in his grasp. She could take anything he chose to do to her, she wouldn't flinch, no matter how aggressive he got. She would either revel in it or pay him back in kind, but there would be no need to apologize, no need to be _considerate_. And that was a rare gift, and one he was grateful for.

He felt her nails scratch down his back as her body went incredibly taut under him, every muscle and sinew tense with expectation and he pulled back for a last single stroke that sent her straight over the edge with a long drawn-out moan. The flex of her muscles around him was enough to make him come with her, a red-hot, sharp burst of pleasure that was akin to pain. He collapsed on top of her, almost crushing her with his weight.

Loghain didn't say goodbye when he left, just kissed her again, slightly more gentle now. Morena lay back on the sweat-soaked sheets and closed her eyes. She would miss him too.

 


	5. Taking Charge

**Chapter 5 - Taking Charge**

When the familiar silhouette of Vigil's Keep finally appeared on the horizon, Morena almost sagged with relief. Maker, she detested the Deep Roads, the darkness and the stench and the constant threat of darkspawn. But most of all she hated to be reminded she would one day have to return there, never to leave again. The final sacrifice every Warden had to make.

It was good to be out in the open again, good to be on the way home. Looking around at her companions, she realized they all felt much the same. A tiny smile was playing around Anders' lips as he returned her gaze, and even Nathaniel looked slightly less grumpy than usual. Only Sigrun seemed uncomfortable under the open sky, but that was to be expected. After all, she had grown up in Orzammar, and as a member of the Legion of the Dead, she wouldn't have expected ever to see daylight again. Still, Morena was glad they had rescued her, and Sigrun had agreed to join them. The perky dwarf was an able fighter and a constant source of good cheer and optimism, despite her insistence she was already dead. Morena could do with someone like her around the place, someone who didn't need constant encouragement and support to function.

On the whole, the trip to Kal'Hirol had been a success, she mused as they were approaching the Keep's gates. They had taken out several broodmothers, defeated another one of the dangerous talking darkspawn and found some amazing runes and armour. Once again her Wardens had proven their worth against foes that were the stuff of nightmares. Anders in particular had saved all their lives more than once, but Nathaniel's bow had been invaluable as well, sending arrow after arrow at the darkspawn with deadly precision.

Morena had hoped to have a few hours all to herself when they got back, but apparently it was not to be. As soon as they had passed the threshold, Mistress Woolsey began nagging her about some problems with the Keep's accounts. Ser Garevel wanted her advice on how to deal with the bandits plaguing the trade routes between Amaranthine and Denerim. And just as she was ready to finally retire to her quarters, Seneschal Varel informed her it was court day and he needed her to decide several cases.

With a sigh, she followed him to the throne room. The first case was a shepherd who had stolen food from the Crown. Varel suggested having him hanged, and Morena was inclined to agree, if only to get the procedure over with as soon as possible. But then she took a closer look at the young man. He seemed strong and able, and there was a fire in his eyes, which made her pause.

"Let him join the army instead," she pronounced her sentence. "He seems to be a man of action. Let him direct his energies against the darkspawn."

She didn't miss the dark expression on the young man's features as the guards led him out of the room. He would have to leave his family behind, and fighting against the darkspawn might very well turn out to be a death sentence after all. She shrugged. _He should be grateful. At least he has a chance now._

Quickly, she dealt with the rest of the cases. She sentenced a deserting soldier to death without so much as a second thought, ignoring the young woman's impassioned pleas. Morena had no patience with deserters. If everyone started leaving their posts to run home to their families, soon there would be nothing to defend. The last case, a land dispute, she left to Varel.

Turning to mount the stairs, she encountered Oghren, drunk as usual and full of complaints about the quality of the ale in the cellar. She cut him off with a terse rebuke. Honestly, was no one in this place able to solve their own problems?

Her mood improved a little as soon as the door closed behind her. Her room was cosy and warm, a fire burning merrily in the fireplace, a tray of food arranged on the table next to it. Walking over to her desk, she scanned the pile of papers covering it, until a courier's packet tied with silk cord caught her attention. Loghain's reports from Orlais.

He had been thorough, as usual, and she put aside the thick wad of paper containing his official memorandum. It could wait till tomorrow. But there was a personal message as well, marked with her name instead of her title, and she opened it with a small smile on her face. She hadn't expected him to write to her when he'd left. Loghain wasn't much of a talker, but apparently he found it easier to communicate by letter. She enjoyed his terse, precise style and had been surprised to find she was looking forward to his messages.

_Morena,_

No endearments, but the use of her first name made it more than clear this was no formal correspondence.

_Another month gone by. Thank you for your letter, and for the map. It's a wonderful example of craftsmanship as well as an important reminder of past sufferings and misfortunes._

Morena had sent him a map of Ferelden during the time of the Orlesian occupation. She had found it among the many treasures she'd collected on her travels. Remembering his fondness for old maps, she had immediately realized it would be the perfect gift for him.

_Not that the Orlesian Wardens are likely to let me forget the past anyway. To them, I'm not a fellow Warden. I'm the Fereldan butcher, the slayer of chevaliers, the walking, talking symbol of their defeat. They seem determined to take out all their frustration on me, coming up with new petty insults and provocations every day. I'm not about to let them needle me into doing something stupid, though._

Morena's face darkened. She knew this kind of thing bothered him more than he let on. Part of why he was attracted to her was that she'd always treated him like any other man, with the respect he deserved but without any undue reverence. He hated being reduced to his heroic past. Even here, in Ferelden, where people recalled his deeds with awe and gratitude, he'd rather not be recognized as the Hero of the River Dane, treated as some sort of living legend. It had to be worse amongst his ancient enemies.

But as she read on, her frown turned into a smile.

_They couldn't even give me a properly trained warhorse. Said it would be wasted on a Fereldan dog lord. Instead I'm stuck with a young mare that no one else wanted. Actually, she rather reminds me of you. She's beautiful as sin, full of fire and as spirited as they get. Moody and unpredictable, and she will bite if I'm not careful. But she likes the smell of my leathers and I'm certain I can tame her eventually._

Morena grinned at the implied insolence. "Don't be too sure, Loghain MacTir," she muttered. "Not every female is so easily tamed."

Yet at the same time his words were stoking the fires of her imagination. So he was thinking of her, there in Montsimmard, remembering her fondness for leather, the way she would bite his shoulder in the throes of passion... He was thinking about her, just like she was thinking about him. She imagined him, alone on his bed in his quarters, lonely and horny, caught up in a memory of their nights together, and her breath caught in her throat at the image.

True, her own bed was not quite as cold as his. Anders made sure of that. But Anders, much as she loved him, couldn't give her what she craved right now, what Loghain had done for her. Oh, the mage adored her, perhaps more than any other person on Thedas, and he accepted her unconditionally. He'd do anything she asked of him. But Anders would always be a burden, a liability. Like everyone else, he relied on her to put things right.

Loghain, on the other hand... She missed him. Missed his determination, his firmness. He knew exactly what he wanted, and he wasn't shy about taking it. No amount of wheedling or seducing would make him change his mind if he didn't want to. She could force him, fight him, but he'd always take charge if she let him.

Just like he did when they made love... Morena shivered, and the letter dropped from her hands as she sank back on the bed and closed her eyes. Rolling onto her stomach, she reached between her legs to touch her heated core, burying her face into the pillow as if to recapture his scent there.

_Loghain, kissing her hard, his lips demanding and forceful. His powerful body, pinning her to the mattress, as he moved above her, unexpectedly graceful despite his size. His weight on her body, almost squeezing the air out of her lungs as he took her from behind, his hot torso pressed against her back, his hips rolling against her until she was whimpering, begging him to go on forever, to never stop._

Her fingers moved in soft circles, but it was the images in her mind that made her moan, made her writhe against the covers and shiver all over. _Loghain's rough hands on her body, his hoarse voice whispering in her ear, his lips and tongue on her skin, tasting her, devouring her, making her his._ She almost screamed his name as she came, shuddering, trembling, full of longing for him.

For a long moment she lay there on the bed, trying to catch her breath, to find her balance again. Oh yes, she missed him. More than she'd ever expected to.

Reaching for the discarded letter, she quickly read the last paragraph.

_Sixteen months until I'll be back, Morena. What you wrote about your last assignment sounded dangerous, or should I say reckless? Take care and try not to get killed. I'm counting on you to welcome me home to Ferelden._

      _Loghain_

No tender words, no mention of love. And yet, it was easy to read between the lines that he cared. For a moment, she closed her eyes and raised the letter to her lips, still lost in her fantasy. But then she shook herself and rose to put it away. Dreams were all well and good, but the present demanded her attention.

As if on cue, there was a knock on her door. She checked her appearance in the mirror and straightened out her robes before she opened it, schooling her features to be calm and serene.

"Yes, Nathaniel? Anything I can do for you?"

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, a huge thank you to zevgirl, my invaluable beta!


End file.
